“Yeah, you must be. So how did it go?”
“How did it go? The therapy? You know, I think it went well, given all the issues. Wes is probably of another opinion. But anyway, at least we know where we stand with each other and coming to an understanding is very important.”
“So what’s the understanding?”
“I may not know where or exactly how I’m going to live out my days, but I’m certain it won’t be with him. It’s very sad. Anyway, want to go house shopping with me?”
“You bet! I love snooping around other people’s houses and seeing how they live. You know, check out their medicine cabinets for what they take and bedside table drawers for who knows what? To see how they get crazy in the middle of the night!”
“Jonathan! Naughty boy! I never knew that about you!” The devil!
“Ah, madam, I have many surprises in store for you. Stick around!”
“I will! So call me later?”
“Yep. Count on it.”
I had a few stories to tell him too.
As predicted, at five o’clock Miss JP barked, the front door opened, and Harlan was home. I was in the den reading Splendid in Ashes by Josephine Pinckney. It was terrific.
“I’m back!” he called out.
“In here!” I called back.
I got up and met him in the kitchen. He gave me a hug and scooped up Miss Jo, who washed his face with kisses. And, yes, they both wore monogrammed blue shirts, but Miss Jo’s had short puffed sleeves.
“All right now! That’s enough!” he said. “So how was your trip?”
“There’s a lot to tell. Want to go to Magnolias? There’s not diddly squat in the refrigerator.”
“I know. I’m on a diet. I gained eight pounds in Italy. Can you believe? But sure, let’s go have supper. Where’s Jonathan?”
“Department meeting. He might stop by later.”
“Great. Let me just put away my dry cleaning and all this stuff and we can get out of here. Want to walk?”
“Definitely. Just leave it by the stairs. Victoria Rutledge is in an unpacking mood!”
Minutes later we were walking up East Bay Street until we reached the ancient building that housed Magnolias, one of our favorite restaurants in the city. It was early, so they were able to take us right away and we were seated at a small table in the front room. There was a fever of pouring water, bringing menus and bread, did we want a cocktail and wasn’t it hot today? Vodka and tonics with extra limes would be great, and before you could say Robert E. Lee, we were sipping away. This was why we loved Magnolias. Great service, friendly, beautiful, and casual, all at the same time. Not to mention delicious.
“I’m possessed. All I can think about is shrimp and grits with bits of chorizo and tasso gravy,” Harlan said, reading the menu. “I should be eating broiled fish with lemon juice. If I had any discipline.”
“And you could get hit by a truck tomorrow,” I said.
The server approached the table.
“Y’all ready to order?” she said.
“I’ll have the shrimp and grits,” Harlan said, adding with a straight face, “because I could get hit by a truck.”
I giggled, and Harlan looked sheepish.
“Yes, sir,” the server said. “And for you, ma’am?”
“Oh!” Harlan said. “How rude of me! I should’ve asked you to order first, Les, but I knew if I didn’t just go for it, I’d change my mind.”
“I’ll have the same thing,” I said. “Don’t worry, Harlan. I’ll always be your partner in crime.”
“Our poor cholesterol,” he said. “Now tell me about your trip.”
“Wes is such a knucklehead it’s unbelievable.”
“This is not news, little sister. Tell me something I don’t know.”
“Okay.”
For the next thirty minutes, I told him about what I had offered Wes as a deal and he said he thought it was very smart.
“If you’re not ready to file for divorce and go through the whole discovery process, this is a brilliant deal and more than fair.”
“Well, he’s got a week to agree, and if he doesn’t, I guess I’ll have to retain a lawyer. And then there’s wedding news.”
For another thirty minutes, I told him about Molly, Shawn, Cornelia and Harold, and Paolo and Lisette. I threw in an update on Danette, Nader, and their tango lessons.
“I hate weddings. Truly I do,” he said. “But I’d pay money to go to this one.”
“You don’t have to. All you have to do is get in the car.”
“And have Wes go crazy?”
“Screw Wes. It’s not his party. Listen, you haven’t seen my children in years. And you’ve never met Holly. Don’t you think it’s time? I’ll call Danette. She’ll be thrilled! You can stay with me in the hotel. I’ve got a junior suite with two queen-size beds at the new Loews. And I’m hosting the bridal brunch. You can help me.”
“I’ve heard it’s gorgeous, and I did just pick up my tuxedo from the cleaners . . . are you sure?”
“Positive. We’ll have a wonderful time!”
We scraped up our remaining spoons of grits with the last biscuits and smiled over how bold we were.
“Do you want dessert?” I said.
“Absolutely. Let’s split the strawberry shortcake . . . as long as we’re going to hell, we may as well make it worth it.”
“I agree. Then they can roll us home.”
Harlan’s laundry was still in the foyer when we got back to the house.
“She didn’t put your stuff away,” I said, stating the obvious.
“One should never assume when dealing with the dead.”
It was around nine when the house phone rang. We were watching a PBS special about the Metropolitan Opera. I thought it might be Jonathan. Harlan picked it up.
“Hello?” he said. “Who? Oh, Wes!” Pause. “Fine, thank you. And you?” I muted the television, and Harlan made the crazy symbol on the side of his head with his free hand. “Of course. She’s right here.” Pause. “You too, Wes.”
As he handed me the phone he mouthed, What’s wrong with him?
“So much,” I whispered and took the receiver. “Hello, Wes? Is everything all right?”
“Oh, yeah. So you got back okay?” he said.
“Yes. Thanks. I texted Charlotte. She didn’t tell you?”
“No, but that’s okay. So I have news. My doctor called. I’m fine.”
“Oh, Wes! That’s wonderful. You must be so relieved.”
“Yeah, it was on the voice mail when I got home. And guess what else?”
“I couldn’t begin to guess.”
“Your daughter has a date. With that Oriental guy? Dr. Chen, my surgeon?”
“You must be kidding.”
“Nope. Bertie offered to babysit. And are you sitting down?”
“No, but I will.” I sank into the armchair where Harlan had been. “Okay, I’m sitting.”
“Bertie has a job interview with CNN next week.”
“With CNN?”
“Yep. They’re looking to fill some kind of a job called deputy photo editor, whatever that is. But you have to be a photography expert and he is that. He sent in his résumé and they called him back right away. They want to see his portfolio.”
Charlotte had a date with a surgeon, and Bertie had a job interview.
“Wes? Did you slip something in their food?”
“Les, if there was a drug that could make this happen, we would’ve given it to them a long time ago.”
“Well, Wes, we finally agree on something.”
“Yeah. Maybe things are going to turn around with those two. And if it does, all the credit goes to you. I see now what hell you’ve been through with them.”
“Thanks. I guess it’s a wait-and-see game now, right?” My cell phone was ringing in my purse. “Okay, Wes, I’ll talk to you later.”
“Is that another phone ringing I hear? Isn’t that your cell?”
“It’
s Harlan’s cell,” I lied. Whoever was calling me was none of Wes’s business. “Well, I’m really glad to hear about your results, Wes. That’s the most important thing.”
I motioned to Harlan to answer my phone, which he did. He mouthed Jonathan to me. I motioned to him to talk to him for a few minutes. He nodded and took the phone out to the dining room.
“If you don’t have health,” he said.
“You don’t have anything,” I said, finishing the old but true saying.
Then I simply got quiet to indicate I’d said all I wanted to say.
“Okay then,” he said. “We’ll talk later.”
Sensing that I was frantic to get off the phone with him, he let me go.
“Okay, then. Bye.”
Harlan came back and handed me my cell phone.
“Jonathan?”
“Hi! Is it too late for a nightcap? Or I could just whisk you out to the beach with me and we could have a glass of something under the stars.”
“I’m pretty tired, babe. Why don’t you just stop over for a short one. I want to see your face.”
“I’ll be there in about ten minutes.”
“Great,” I said and clicked the end button.
“It’s raining men, hallelujah!” Harlan sang and danced a little spastic disco.
“Stop!” I said, laughing.
“I’ve got to practice up for the wedding. Honey, if anybody else signs on the Leslie bandwagon, we’re gonna have to put a switchboard in the house!”
“Hush! Is there a cold bottle of white wine in the fridge? I have to pour something.”
“Make vodka tonics in insulated traveler cups and take him for a walk on the Battery wall. It’s almost a full moon tonight.”
“That’s a great idea!”
“Leonard and I used to do that all the time. The cups are in the pantry closet. There’s a lonely lime in the hydrator.”
“Thanks!” I wondered if Harlan would ever find another partner. He rarely spoke a word about his personal life. Everything was all about work.
A few minutes later, the doorbell rang. I went to answer it, and there was Jonathan in patch madras trousers and a navy blazer. He pulled me to him and hugged me something fierce.
“You are too adorable,” I said.
“And you are more beautiful every time I see you.”
How could I not love this man? He came in to say hello to Harlan.
“Hey!” Jonathan said, and Harlan stood and shook hands with him. “I haven’t seen you since Italy! How was it?”
Miss Jo jumped from her bed and then danced and yipped all around Jonathan’s feet, trying to get his attention. Jonathan picked her up, and she licked him all over his chin.
“She’s been cheating on me all over town,” Harlan said. “Italy is the most glorious place in the world. I had a truly wonderful trip.”
“That’s great! Okay, you little minx, I’m putting you down now!” Jonathan put Miss Jo on the floor, where she promptly stood on her hind legs, begging to be picked up again. “I keep telling your sister that I’m going to take her to Italy whenever she wants to go.”
Miss Jo was relentless in her dancing.
“Miss Josephine Pinckney!” Harlan said, and the lights flickered all over the house. “Where are your manners?” The lights flickered again and Harlan added, talking to the thin air, “I mean my dog, not you!”
“What am I missing? Do you need an electrician?” Jonathan said.
“Maybe,” I said and winked at Harlan. “Come on, I’ve got a treat for us. And I need to walk off some butter.”
I screwed the tops on the cups, handed Jonathan one, and put the house key in my pocket. Jonathan followed me up Chalmers Street until I looped my arm through his and touched his cup with mine.
“Cheers!” I said. “It’s a light vodka and tonic.”
“Cheers! Great!” he said. “So talk to me.”
“Oh, Jonathan, it’s been quite the soap opera this week.”
We walked until we reached the Battery, and then we strolled along the elevated wall. I told him about the therapy sessions.
“You were right,” I said. “Wes never heard almost anything I said.”
Then I gave him the lowdown on Cornelia and Shawn.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he said. “Run that one by me again, please?”
“Yeah, is that the most hideous coincidence ever?”
“You know, Atlanta is the fast lane of the South, well, next to the Big Easy, but here in Charleston? We’re like the Chinese, eating rice and worshipping our ancestors. Very conservative. Although I’m certain a fair amount of illicit screwing around goes on, I’m usually not privy to the details. All that being said, that is some story, all right. Wow. Don’t you need your personal physician to be your escort?”
“Oh, Jonathan, I already invited Harlan. I’m sorry.”
“And no doubt Wes will be there, right?”
“Yes, this is his best friend’s daughter who’s the bride. We’ve known them since they were born.”
“Then you don’t need any more excitement than you’ve already got. You’d better make sure you video it. I can only imagine. Wow.”
“Yeah, the word ‘wow’ was invented for a situation like this. That’s for sure.”
“My God. When’s this wedding?”
“Weekend after next.”
“I can’t wait to hear every detail. By the way, next Wednesday? Don’t make any plans, okay?”
“Oh, Jonathan, that’s my . . .”
“Birthday. I know. You think I’d forget my first true love’s birthday? I’ve thought about you on that day for the last forty years. When’s mine?”
“January twenty-fifth,” I said and smiled. “And I have too. Thought about you, that is.”
“You don’t have plans, do you?”
“Actually, no. I don’t.”
Some public display of affection ensued, right there on the Battery for everyone to see.
“Good. I’ve got something special planned.”
And Wes wasn’t even sure when my birthday was or how old I’d be.
“We need your daddy’s car,” I said. “That Chevy.”
“It was a Pontiac. Come on, let’s get you home. I have to do rounds at seven.”
“Appalling hours,” I said. “Appalling.”
“True. You look sleepy too, sweetheart,” he said.
We began walking back to Harlan’s.
“What did you just call me?”
“Sweetheart.”
“That sounds so good coming from you.”
“I’ve called you that before,” he said and squeezed my shoulder.
“Yes, but it never sounded so good.”
On the morning of my birthday, I smelled bacon cooking. I went downstairs and there was Harlan, frying bacon and making waffles. He handed me a cappuccino.
“Hey, birthday girl! How do you feel? Old and decrepit like me?”
“Thanks! Right. You’re like a thousand years older than me! Ha! Ha! Gosh, I love cappuccino.”
“Leonard used to draw things in the foam, like smiley faces or Christmas trees.”
“You must miss him, Harlan.” I stirred the foam a little and scooped it up on my spoon. “This is like a really airy coffee meringue!”
“I miss him every minute of every day.”
“And you don’t see yourself with anyone else?”
“Honey, anyone else would be such a step down that I couldn’t deal with it. And I sort of like being unencumbered by all the complicated rules of a relationship. You know?”
“I like it too. I don’t miss Wes’s endless demands one little bit.”
“I’m sure. But you don’t think Jonathan thinks that he’s in a relationship with you?” He opened the waffle iron and pulled off two perfectly toasted waffles. “Come, let’s sit.”
“Oh, we are, but it’s not encumbering, at least not yet.” I sat at the kitchen table with him. “Mostly we’re just
great friends.”
“Hmmm. Really? Well, here’s to you, little sister. Happy birthday to my favorite girl!”
He held up his juice glass and touched the edge of mine. “Cheers!”
“Thanks, Harlan. This is a beautiful way to start my sixties.”
“You’re welcome. But I have to tell you, I think Jonathan thinks y’all are more than just great friends.”
The doorbell rang and Harlan got up to answer it. He came back a few minutes later carrying a vase of red roses.
“Here we have one whole dozen half-dead roses jammed in a cheap vase filled with Styrofoam being strangled by, God save us all, baby’s breath and sword fern all tied up in the cheapest ribbon money can buy. Who do we think this vile thing is from? Two guesses.”
“Is there a card?”
“Here it is.” He pulled it off the clear plastic stick and gave it to me.
It read, See? I didn’t forget! Happy Birthday! Love, Wes.
“What can I say? It’s classic Wesley Carter.”
“Dr. FTD strikes again,” Harlan said. “He really shouldn’t have.”
“Where should we put them?” I said. I started pulling out the baby’s breath, and I untied the ribbon. They looked better right away, but honestly, I didn’t think they looked that bad.
“I don’t know. Somewhere where they won’t disturb us? These flowers are giving me anxiety.”
“Harlan? You are so bad!”
“It’s a simple matter of taste, Leslie. And Wes has so little.”
It was true, unless you were talking golf, martinis, or steaks. I couldn’t begin to count the cheap leather purses I abandoned in Atlanta.
It was seven o’clock that night when Jonathan picked me up. I could just as easily have driven myself out to the beach, but he said no, this was a special occasion and he wanted to be every inch the gentleman.
“So how was your birthday so far?”
“It was great! The kids called, Holly sang to me, and then they all sang to me again in a video Bertie e-mailed to me. And Danette called and we talked for an hour. She’s excited to see Harlan at the wedding.”
“You didn’t hear from Wes?”
“He sent some flowers.”
“Aren’t you surprised he sent anything at all? Maybe there’s a last-ditch effort in store for you when you go to Atlanta.”
The Last Original Wife Page 27
